One Song
by Genevia
Summary: After an accident caused Kurt to be in the brink of death, Blaine fell out of the music industry, inspiration leaving him as his muse's light began to flicker. Now the musician has to come to terms that there is a chance he might lose the love of his life


_d i s c l a i m e r : i d o n o t o w n g l e e ._

**Title**: One Song

**Pairing/s**: Kurt/Blaine

**Genre**: Romance/Hurt/Comfort

**Summary**: After a hit-and-run accident caused Kurt to be in the brink of death, Blaine fell out of the music industry, all inspiration leaving him as his muse's light began to flicker. Now the musician has to come to terms that there is a possibility he might lose the love of his life, whether he likes it or not.

. . . . . .

**1. Never Say Goodbye**

"How is he?"

The doctor turns around, his right arm cradling a clipboard full of paper and casting me a grim look behind his blonde bangs. "As well as he can be, considering the fact that his life depends on a machine," he answers. He sighs and adjusts his glasses. "I'm sorry, Blaine. You just have to accept the fact that he may never wake up."

I glare at him. "He'll pull through, you hear?" I snap, my hands curling into fists at my sides. Nobody. Nobody can tell me that Kurt, the strongest man I have ever known, will stay asleep forever. He-he's way too strong for that. I know he'll pull through. I know.

"He'll wake up. He'll wake up and then I'll never let him go again. He'll wake up and it will be as if this never happened. He will. I know he will," I mumble, but whisper the last part with all the softness I could muster. Kurt won't leave me, right? He told me once, in a time so long ago, that he would never say goodbye. And I know Kurt, he doesn't break any promises. He's that kind of person.

The doctor sighs then walks out, once again leaving me alone with my thoughts.

**2. Need**

The door opens, but I do not turn around, opting to continue rubbing circles onto Kurt's hand. I hear somebody enter, and they close the door behind them with a resounding click.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night, _

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly. _

_All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive._

"Blaine?"

The music almost drowns the voice, as weak as it was.

"Dude?"

The music smothers the voice, as shaky as it was.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night, _

_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see. _

_All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive._

From my spot on the right side of Kurt's bed, I see a flash of black hair, then a hand setting a bunch of pure white lilies down. The flowers' fragrance hits my senses like a bullet train and I fight to keep my tears from falling.

Lilies were-are Kurt's favorite flower.

_Blackbird fly, _

_Blackbird fly. _

_Into the light of the dark black night._

"Hey, dude. You've been moping too much, from what I heard." A forced laugh, deep but weak.

But I gave no response.

"Rachel and Mercedes were here yesterday, you know. They were the ones who told me about you."

None again.

"Ku-He, he wouldn't want you to be this way."

I suck in a deep breath, then lick my lips to give them whatever moisture I can muster. "I know," I whisper, looking up into the eyes of my husband's stepbrother, Finn Hudson. He looks well, except for the fact that his eyes are red and the shadows underneath his eyes are obvious.

He sighs. "Then why?"

My lower lip trembles at his question. Why? Why? It was like asking why the moon revolved around the Earth or why a plant grows towards the sun.

"Because I need him, and I'm not ready to let him go." I answer without hesitation, the truth ringing out with my words.

**3. My Muse **

_And if you tell me to—_

_Where am I—_

_This life ain't—_

_Nobody can—_

I crumple the paper I am writing on, the seventh one so far, and throw it into a nearby bin but missing and making the macerated piece take its place with the others on the ground.

Along the others which contained half-written lyrics.

The others which I lacked the inspiration to finish.

I let out a frustrated groan and lean back on the chair. Damn Finn and Rachel for forcing me to go home and rest. 'Even just a little bit', they said. What use was I here anyway? Apparently I can't write songs anymore. I mean, how can I? It's not like my source of inspiration is there in the hospital-without me!-only alive because of a machine. No. Not as if it were like that. Not at all.

Sighing, I pick up a piece of music sheet hidden underneath a few books.

_I've been alone_

_Surrounded by darkness_

_I've seen how heartless_

_The world can be_

_I've seen you crying_

_You felt like it's hopeless_

_I'll always do my best_

_To make you see_

_Baby, you're not alone_

_Cause you're here with me_

_And nothing's ever gonna bring us down_

_Cause nothing can keep me from lovin' you_

_And you know it's true_

_It don't matter what'll come to be_

_Our love is all we need to make it through_

My eyes are torn between crinkling in the edges because of a smile and tearing up.

Not Alone was my first released single, and written when I was in my junior year in Dalton, a few hours right after I met Kurt. At first only played it on guitar, but was later transposed to a music sheet.

Kurt loves it. He tells me so every time I sing it. He says that it is his favorite among all my songs, and he often asks me to sing it to him when we sleep.

He was the one who inspired me to write it.

The moment I laid my eyes upon him, the words just flowed like water in a stream, so seamlessly, so flawlessly. It was so—so perfect. Like him. Songs are a dream without him, the words nothing but empty shells, and the melody nothing but a useless tune.

**4. Memories Haunt **

A picture frame of us here and there, with smiles on our faces and a sense of forever. A sketchbook just laying around, thick with unique designs. A long winding scarf enough for two people to wear.

The fragrance of lilies hanging thickly in the air. The scent of spring wind ghosting around. The smell of mushroom ravioli permeating the air.

My eyes well up, and I clench my fists. It's no use. Everything just reminds me of him. Even the tiniest flutter of the wind disguised a sigh makes me remember all those times we shared. Plus, forgetting him? Certainly not an option. Why would I willingly forget the one who completed my life, the one who I would never be the same without?

**5. One Song **

The doctor tells me that I should consider the fact that maybe it is time to let go of Kurt. He says there's not been one change since the day my husband was admitted to the hospital and was hooked onto a machine. He whispers something about me just hurting myself and Kurt because of my reluctance to let go.

I don't believe him. Not one bit.

Because he doesn't know what I know.

I bring my guitar to the hospital the very next moment I can, but I just place it in one corner. I never touch it, or even so much as lay a finger on it. It stays there, untouched and merely gathering dust. I don't even know why I brought it in the first place.

Looking at Kurt, I am once again caught up in memories from long ago. His face, angelic even in the brink of death, brings back everything in a head-reeling rush that almost sends me cowering in one corner with tears falling from my eyes in continuous rivulets. I almost fail, but I regain composure and simply take in a deep breath.

Resting my eyes upon his whole figure swathed in white sheet, with his skin blending into the fabric as the river runs into the sea, something sparks—no, ignites in me, causing the words to blaze like fire and forcing me to bring it out and express it in a way in which I always do.

I attempt to, but my throat runs dry.

I try once again, but my lips do not form coherent words, just garbled and incoherent mumblings.

Another time I attempt, and this time I manage to speak of what had been in my mind for so long.

I lean towards him and touch my forehead to his. "Who do you think you are, leaving me alone with my guitar?" a smile pulls at my lips, thinking of the irony of that statement, "Hold on there's something you should hear. It isn't much, but it took all year."

_Something changes, like a slow and weak beep becoming faster and turning into a normal pace. A name is uttered, and for the longest time at last, land meets the sky._

. . . . . .

**a / n**

I wrote this whole thing on my phone and just tweaked it a bit on my netbook, so sorry for the shortness. It looked long in my phone. *shrugs* Review and tell me how horribly I failed?

**Yours truly, **_Gen_


End file.
